


unite and conquer

by luova_tauko



Category: Wild Adapter
Genre: M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-22 00:45:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luova_tauko/pseuds/luova_tauko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The room reeks of nightmares and Tokito's sweat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	unite and conquer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [opalmatrix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalmatrix/gifts).



Kubota doesn't wake up until he's on the floor, tangled in his sheets and an elbow hurting almost like it's broken all over again. It still hurts less than his hip because Tokito kicks like a mule, or at least as hard as Kubota assumes mules kick. He's a city boy, he wouldn't know for certain.

He knows this, though: Tokito's afraid, he's like in the beginning when only Shouta could reach out for him, smelling of fear and pain and don't touch don't touch _don't_. 

But Shouta's not here anymore and it's just Tokito and Kubota and Tokito's fears, and Kubota knows this too.

When Kubota manages to untangle himself and sits up, Tokito is a dark shape huddling against the wall, wrapped in his sheets and panting like a hunted animal. He's trembling so hard that Kubota can see it even without his glasses, in the darkness and despite the coverings. Tokito doesn't say anything, _can't_ say anything because he barely has enough air to fill his lungs, one shaky gasp after another, but he doesn't have to. Kubota can still hear him. 

Kubota knows he's allowed to touch now, to wrap his fingers around Tokito's wrist and tousle his hair, but he doesn't. He could still break important things and he would, if he'd touch now.

Clutching his sheets and not touching, Kubota's fingers hurt more than his elbow, more than his bruised hip. It would hurt (them both) even more if he were to sleep on the couch in another room, so he doesn't. The floor's not that hard or cold, not with the sheets and a pillow and Tokito just an arm's length away.

 

Eventually Kubota has to offer it anyway because Tokito's eyes are too dull against his too pale skin. "I could sleep on the couch."

"Shut the hell up."

 

Kubota knows what Tokito wants to say, what he's about to say, and this time he's fast enough to stop the words from spilling out. Tokito's lips are soft and his teeth aren't against Kubota's palm, but he doesn't bite and he doesn't break, not that Kubota would care about teeth marks as long as they were Tokito's. Still, he takes his hand away because breaking is still an option.

"It's fine," Kubota says instead. He gets up and says, "I'll sleep on the couch." 

Tokito doesn't say anything and his eyes are wide and full of things Kubota doesn't want to (but frequently does) think about, and Kubota steps back and back until he can't anymore. 

 

"It's not you," Tokito says later and Kubota wonders what it costs him to say that. "It's the shit in my head."

"I know."

 

Kubota's awake a heartbeat before Tokito, not that it matters because he wouldn't clamber over Tokito anyway. Tokito shoots out of the bed, across the room, and plasters himself against the wall. The room reeks of nightmares and Tokito's sweat. 

There's no hiding in Tokito's side of the room, just a bare wall and the distance between that and the bed, but the door is like an open mouth near him. To Kubota's eyes, Tokito is just a blurry shape and looking at him makes Kubota's eyes water and ache. He can't focus and he wants to. It looks like Tokito is standing perfectly still like a grotesque statue made of shadows and panic, but maybe he's not, maybe he's trembling and Kubota _can't see_. His glasses should be on the bedside table and he takes his eyes off of Tokito just for a second to be sure, and it's in that second that Tokito moves. The pitch black doorway swallows him whole.

Kubota closes his eyes and waits for it, for the other door to open and slam shut and for the silence to fall. It doesn't because Tokito sits on the couch instead, and because Kubota knows how it creaks by heart, he knows that Tokito's bare feet are on it too, toes curling against it. 

Tokito's quiet voice carries well from one room to another when he says, "Good night, Kubo-chan."

 

There are questions Kubota knows he shouldn't ask, that he doesn't want to ask, but he asks them anyway. "Do you ever remember – "

" _No_."

 

"Don't move, okay?"

Kubota doesn't because it's Tokito and there are very few things Kubota wouldn't do for him. Sometimes (often, _all the time_ ) he thinks he'd do anything. Kill everyone, lay still on the bed, it's all the same. He'd do it anyway.

Tokito walks across the room slowly like an old man, arms wrapped around himself, and then he stops beside the bed. Kubota can't see him all that well but he can hear, his ears work just fine, and Tokito's leather glove squeaks as he makes a fist.

"I'm _not_ running away anymore." It's a snarl more than anything else and then Tokito climbs on the bed, climbs over Kubota and traps him in a sheet cocoon like he's a moth waiting for birth. It's warm and then even warmer with Tokito above him, sharing the same air with him, and Kubota wonders what kind of courage it takes to be Tokito.

Tokito leans down and breathes against Kubota's throat, his jaw, his ear. He whispers, "I'm not afraid," and Kubota believes him.


End file.
